


Buried Alive

by CaptainShade



Series: Whumptober 2020 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Horror, Bugs, But whatever, Cagefic, Gen, Graphic Violence, Michael's name is said once in here, Sort Of, Temporary Character Death, Threats of Violence, being eaten by bugs, eye gore, finger gore, im not sure if its really buried alive as well, it's pretty bad, please don't tread lightly here, so idk if i should tag it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainShade/pseuds/CaptainShade
Summary: Whumptober 2020 Day 4, Buried AliveSam gets buried and has to dig his way out.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949092
Kudos: 13
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Buried Alive

Sam was on his knees, leaning heavily on the metal shackles around his wrists. Blood and sweat were matting his hair, more blood running down his arms from his severed fingers. 

Lucifer sighed, flipping the garden shears around in his hand. 

“I’m gonna strike a deal with you, Sammy.”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on his racing thoughts. “Deal with...the devil, just...what I want,” he panted out, voice hoarse from yelling. “And don’t...call me Sammy.”

“You’ve already said yes once, so I can do whatever I want to you. Besides, what’s another deal to your tainted soul?” He reached out, hand glowing blue-white with freezing power, and ruffled Sam’s hair, healing him from the day’s tortures. Sam shivered. “I’m even throwing in some free healing to sweeten the pot.”

Lucifer snapped, and the shackles disappeared, leaving Sam to slump over, muscles weak from remembered pain. He snapped again and the Cage turned into a forested graveyard, a wooden coffin and shovel inches away from Sam. He scrambled back, apprehension clouding his mind. 

“We’re going to bury you. If you manage to get out in the time I give you, I won’t hurt you for a while. If you don’t, we’re going right back to cutting your fingers off, a joint at a time.”

“How long are you going to give me?” Sam said, trying to hide the shake in his voice. Buried alive was much more psychological than physical, at least here where he wouldn’t run out of air, and he had to stay calm if he was going to succeed. 

“Like I’d tell you. And before you say it, I’m Satan. I don’t have to be fair.”

Sam stood slowly, staring at Lucifer, not trusting him to pull some bullshit. 

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Now, get digging. At least six feet, but the deeper you dig, the more time you’ll have before the next torture session.”

The fear built at that statement--the time taken for digging would allow for panic to build up more. “You know it takes a while to dig a grave, right? You have the patience for that?”

“Well, we’ll see, won’t we? Stop stalling, or we go back to the shears.”

Sam picked up the shovel, limbs trembling. The best spot, where he wouldn’t have to compete with other coffins for space, would be far away from any of the gravestones, and farther away from trees so the roots didn’t block him. 

Burying the shovel in the packed dirt, Sam began digging his grave. 

It took hours, but Lucifer somehow had the patience to wait as Sam shakily dug his grave eight feet into the ground. There weren’t any bugs in the dirt--at least not yet--and for that, Sam was grateful. The last thing he wanted was for a bunch of worms to try to make a home in his ears. 

“You finally done, Sammy?” Lucifer called as Sam pulled himself out of the grave. 

“Eight feet deep, wide enough to fit a pine box into.”

“Good job, buddy.” Lucifer rested a hand on Sam’s shoulder, and he winced at the cold. “You’re learning to be good for me. Now, hold still.”

Lucifer plunged his hand into Sam’s chest. His eyes went wide with shock and pain, not even able to scream as the archangel rooted around in his body, ripping out his heart. Lucifer said something, but Sam’s ears were ringing fiercely, and as he was pushed into his coffin, Lucifer snapped his fingers and everything went black. 

Sam wakes up with a gasp and chokes on something in his throat, moving. He tilts his head to the side and spits, trying not to throw up. His torso is a mass of fire, and he doesn’t remember why. He tries to open his eyes and see what’s going on, why he feels so caged in, and even though his eyelids are still there and still work he can’t see a thing. His arm can still move, and he lifts it, shaking, to feel for his face. Maybe there’s a blindfold there? 

Something moves under his fingers. 

His hands are trembling wildly, and he knows he should be poking himself in the eye with how close his fingers are to them, but there’s nothing. There’s nothing where his eyes should be. Oh, god. 

He reaches down to the fire and encounters torn flesh, and more moving things. There is a hole in his chest and his eyes are gone and he can feel more things moving around his bare arms and legs and he’s in so much pain he can’t help but scream in horror at his realization. 

Lucifer killed him and left him in the coffin to rot, and he’s being eaten by bugs. 

When his brain finally boots on again, his screams die down, and he remembers that he’s supposed to be getting out of here, he’s on a time limit, oh god if he doesn’t make it the archangel is going to drag him out and pull out all his fingernails, slow, one at a time, and cut off his fingers at each joint--

_“Usually I love it when you spiral, but this is not the time. Are you listening?”_

Lucifer’s voice, in his head, and he thinks _yes_ and _why_ really hard. 

_“Okay, now that you’re done screaming, it’s time for you to dig yourself out. I’m just now starting the timer, and you’re lucky I waited.”_

He doesn’t answer why he killed him. Sam knows anyway.

Feeling for the top of the box with his too-weak hands, he pushes and feels it give just a little. Not locked, then. He tries to flex his legs, pushes up with his knees, and it doesn’t crack, but it lifts just enough to get his feet braced as dirt and dust pour in and get in his mouth and nose. He strains to crack the coffin, just a little, legs getting weaker by the second, and he screams and pushes and finally he hears it break. There’s not a clean split down the middle, but he kicks and kicks and finally dirt pours in over him and he can scoot down and dig himself out with his exhausted arms. 

The dirt is packed and hard but he scrabbles at it long enough and it decides to break into dust. He feels some of it fall into his eye sockets and his brain shuts down everything but _dig, dig, dig_. 

_“Tick-tock, Sammy.”_

He really doesn’t need that reminder right now. 

Finally, he can plunge his hand through and feel air, fresh air, and he gains some amount of energy and clarity back, punching his other arm and his head through and scrambling onto the surface.

He pants. 

“You got really close there, buddy.” Lucifer has the shears again, opening and shutting them, Sam can hear it, and his heart doesn’t drop since it’s been discarded on the ground but he does feel an aching pit in his stomach that has nothing to do with the organ decomposition. “But you defied my expectations, and made it out in time.” He pauses, probably throwing the shears up into the sky or down onto the ground. “Guess I’ll just have to take my violent urges out on Michael, instead.”

Sam rests his head on the broken ground, and breathes, and breathes.


End file.
